“I hope this crowd ain’t been brought up here just to settle some old personal scores,” answered Bertram, his voice bringing Swingley back with a start.

The cattleman, darting a quick glance at Bertram, realized that he had said too much. Muttering something about picking a camping place for the night he spurred ahead, leaving Bertram plodding with the column at the moderate pace which had been prescribed.

The young Texan’s thoughts went back once more to the girl whom he had met at the station. He paid scant attention to the talk of Archie Beam, who had taken Swingley’s place at his side. He was wondering about the girl—who she was, and the mission which had sent her on her long journey. Evidently it was a mission of some danger, for she had hinted at enemies who had sought to interfere with her progress. And her apparent knowledge of the purpose of the expedition was a puzzle. How much did she know of Swingley’s invasion of Wyoming, and what interest could it hold for her?

“Well, if nothin’ else’ll wake you up, pardner,” said Archie good-naturedly, after many ineffectual attempts to arouse Bertram to conversation, “mebbe the smell of a little bacon and coffee will help. It looks as if we’re goin’ to camp right ahead, and them chuck wagons can’t come up too soon fer me. I could eat everything in them wagons and then chase the hosses.”

Swingley had picked an admirable camp site in a grove of cottonwoods, beside an alkali-lined stream. Several springs near by afforded plenty of pure water for cooking purposes. Soon the wagons rattled up. Tents were put up, beds were unrolled, and the cooks had supper started. The men lolled about at ease, but there was no drinking, nor was there any card playing. Conversation was carried on in low voices. As soon as supper was over and the night herders were told off most of the men turned in and were sound asleep in a few minutes. They might be called on to fight before the night waned, but these men, used to the arbitrament of firearms, were not to be robbed of their sleep.

Bertram was aroused, apparently before he had more than dropped off to slumber. Swingley was shaking him by the shoulder, and Hoog was standing in the entrance to the tent. The moon was high, and Bertram could see the faces of both men distinctly.

“Come on out,” said Swingley gruffly. “We’ve got some special work for you.”

As he dressed hurriedly, the young Texan saw that it was only a little past midnight.

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